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Runelords 00.4 - Virgil's Interview
“So, you are…” the angel flipped open the dossier to read the top line. He was a dapper sort, wearing a tunic of emerald green. His skin was a luminescent gold, his face lacked any sort of features, and his arms and myriad of legs could only be described as squid-like. “Virgil Miro?” The humanoid devil smiled and made a nod of assent. He had the wings, crest and tail of some sort of parrot, all green, white and red; something about his grey eyes were suggestive of a bird's, but beyond that, he appeared remarkably human for an extraplanar. The tentacled angel settled himself behind his desk, and began the interview process. "Mr. Miro, this will be a standard interview. They are given to all applicants, so, be assured that your ethnicity will not be held against you during the recruiting process." Virgil still smiled easily. "The fact that you had to say that at all isn't very heartening." "Well, you have to understand our position regarding accepting..." "Please, it's fine," Virgil said, lifting his hand and cutting him off. "If I honestly thought you were going to reject me, then I wouldn't have bothered applying. I understand the heightened qualifications I have to possess, and I know that I have them. I'm here now to prove those qualifications to you. So please, carry on with the interview." "Alright," he said, straightening some papers. "My job is to evaluate your psychological fit for this organisation; your physical and magical aptitude will be tested by another administrator, but be assured, Pandemonium is concerned not only with the number of warriors you've slain or the highest circle spell you can cast. It is important that you possess the correct attitude, intelligence and motivation for the organisation, to fit within it and work with its members, your teammates and your superior officers." Virgil nodded placidly at the explanation. "Now, we understand that certain individuals work better in different circumstances, and we strive to place soldiers in teams that best suit their temperaments and skills, to bring out their best on the varied missions we undertake to quell the evil that...certain Infernal groups and individuals spread." "If you just say 'Hell' normally, it's fine. I'm not offended. If I was offended by your mission statement, I wouldn't be applying." "Ahem," the interviewer coughed, "Well, on that note: why are you applying to join Pandemonium?" Virgil straightened, "I am applying because you are one of the foremost military organisations in the Outer Planes. I am a skilled swordsman and arcanist, and I'm no stranger to military strategy. However, there is only so much one can learn and do on one's own, and I feel that I've learned what I will from my father's army. I'd like to gain new skills, new perspectives, and to work with a greater variety of beings. I believe I will achieve that in serving a term with your army, and I think that you will benefit from the abilities I bring." The angel seemed confused at the concept and flipped through the papers he held. "Your...father?" Virgil smiled again, "I'm sorry. I have a habit of using very Materian terms of phrase. I refer to Osamu Miro." "The mercenary warlord?” Virgil nodded once, “Yes.” The interviewer skimmed a few more pages before continuing, “While your previous experience in an organized setting is appreciated, we are concerned with the placement of your loyalty.” “There should be no issues. My...lord? Does that suit you better? Has no quarrel with Pandemonium." An astute observer might have noticed the angel frown slightly, though they might then question themselves as to how a being without visible features could produce an expression. "Be that as it may, we don't know what his, or our, future stance may be. Nor do we know whether he will sell his services to an enemy of ours that could result in an altercation." "My lord, and my family as a whole, very rarely become personally involved with any of his clients. If I, as an agent of Pandemonium, must fight against a foe that is being aided by my father's forces as part of a contract, then there is no issue. It’s just how the business works. However,” he sighed slightly, “I suppose I must make it clear that I will not be ordered to fight my family, under any circumstances.” "How large is your...family?" he said with no lack of derision. "Four individuals. My father, his husband, my uncle and my sister. Or, in more palatable terms, my lord, his general, his high priest, and the lady of the house." After a slight pause, he asked, "So, if they stand against Pandemonium, and you are ordered to fight them...?" "I will refuse. But I would not oppose you either," he added quickly. With his smile, he finished, "I will conscientiously object. Honestly, two of them rarely leave the house; you would have to mount a full offensive on his province before they would play into a scenario." The interviewer frowned again, somehow. “Come now,” Virgil argued, “four individuals in an entire infinite plane is not asking much. And you’ve certainly scoured my history as well as my father's; you know our risk of opposition is minuscule. We uphold some of the highest lawful standards in Hell.” He straightened, “I abide by that philosophy as well. If I swear or sign to something, I will uphold that. I am merely informing you in advance what I will not agree to. I will undertake any assignment or participate in any battle you send me to, unless it’s an obvious suicide mission,” he held up his hands, “which I have heard rumours of your organization conducting, from time to time. I will fulfill any reasonable orders given to me, unless they involve the betrayal of my family.” “Hrmn. Moving on…” he said. “You are a...bard?” He settled back into his chair as he replied, “Yes.” “As in...you professionally sing songs about myths…?” Virgil chuckled, “I’d put my interpretive dance skills higher than my singing voice, personally. It's another Materian term; I thought it would be faster to sum up my abilities. I was referring my innate casting, which is Etherian in nature. ‘Bard’ is a term Materians tend to use to refer to Etherial-souled individuals who manifest magic.” This explanation did not seem to alleviate any of the interviewer’s confusion. “How does a devil possess the powers of an Etherian?” “My mother was a bird,” he said, snickering at his inside joke, which went well and truly over the interviewer’s head. He sighed, “No? You had to be there. My means of manifestation provided me with some Etherian substance in my make-up, which empowers my arcane magic. I also have a few rudimentary natural abilities; I've listed them in there.” “Hrmn…” The angel paused slightly, "That's...unique." He tapped a tentacle on the desk before continuing, "You appear to use a lot of Materian terminology. Are you fluent in their culture?" "Intimately!" Virgil offered brightly. "Languages, cultures, laws of nature, physics; I'm versed in basically all of it. I can't plane shift myself, not without a tool-assist, but I visit when I can. I enjoy the plane." "That's outside the realm of appropriate conduct for Materia." "I have the natural ability to take a mundane Materian form," Virgil countered. "I don't announce myself or my presence as Infernal. I don't involve myself with politics or wars, I don't accumulate significant wealth or renown, I don't stay for extended periods, and I don't apply myself to any sort of agenda. The plane won't correct what isn't disturbed." He smiled, "I am something of an expert on Materia." The angel gave a thoughtful hum, seeming somewhat pleased for the first time in the interview. "The ability to perform incongruous missions on Materia is an asset," he stated, "but alone will not be enough to ensure your acceptance." He flipped through the papers, “...You are a devil, alignment registered as Lawful Neutral, but with an Etherian component guiding your magic. Your source of sustenance is pride, with a particular affinity for adoration, and a weaker affinity for lust, particularly desire for power.” Virgil sat idly, smiling mutedly as the interviewer spoke. "Achievement, in other words, is your motivation. The accolades of others as you surpass them. This suggests to me a likelihood of insubordination." "If I was insubordinate, I wouldn't read as lawful, I'd imagine," he retorted. "You will be unlikely to follow orders from someone you perceive to be lesser than you; if you fulfill the letter of the order while being dismissive or undisciplined, you do not threaten your alignment. Arrogant devils have a tendency to be difficult when removed from their leadership positions. I will stress to you now that tou will not have a leadership position in this organisation." For the first time in this exchange, Virgil did not seem amused. “Well, obviously," he replied, "No one starts in a position of leadership. You have to earn it.” “This is true, but I am referring to the fact that it is extremely unlikely that a being of your...ambition, will stay in Pandemonium long enough to earn the distinction of promotion.” Virgil narrowed his eyes slightly for a second, then closed them completely and sighed again, “I don’t know if you’re attempting to bait me or dissuade me, but, it’s fine. I am perfectly content in a recruit position, if I'll be learning new skills.” The angel was calm as he said, “I am neither attempting to bait or dissuade you, Mr. Miro. I am merely informing you of the reality of the situation. Should you be accepted, you will be put on probation, until we have deemed you suitable for full recruitment and not a spy or betrayal risk. Should you become a full recruit, you will be kept in the lowest tier, again until we have solid proof of your merit and loyalty. It will require extreme effort on your part, and in our lengthy experience, few devils possess the virtue of patience.” Virgil’s tail feathers undulated softly, moving like kelp in the waves as the rest of his form was stock still, considering. Eventually, he smiled, “For someone not attempting to dissuade, you are certainly not doing a very good job of sounding welcoming. Pandemonium isn’t exactly an equal opportunity employer, is it?” “We never professed to be,” the interviewer replied bluntly. He continued smiling, “You still have something I want. You are still the oldest army, the only cross-planar army, and you still have training I want to take. So, I will gladly submit to whatever draconian policies you want to enforce, provided I receive the same training as everyone else, and am given missions that rank comfortably somewhere between ‘a waste of time’ and ‘suicidal’.” He sat back, “You have my terms, and they are reasonable. You know my personality, it seems, and my temperament. You have my resume. So make your decision, and pass me to the next interviewer.” The two stared at each other for a long moment, expressions inscrutable. Eventually, the interviewer said, “Your stay here will not be comfortable.” Virgil smiled coldly, “I’m flattered you’re so concerned for my comfort. But don’t worry yourself. I’m sure I’ll manage fine, especially if everyone is as hospitable as you.” The interviewer frowned again. “...Take a left and go down the hall. The fourth door on your right is where you will be evaluated for your physical capabilities.” “Thank you,” he said, the coldness evaporating from his expression as he stood up. “Have a pleasant day.” “Hmm?” “Sorry, Materian saying again. Be well.” With a curt bow, Virgil turned and left the room. Category:Rise of the Runelords